Home
by Raggazzed12
Summary: A story where I can't say actually much of anything in the summary because it will give it all away. Let's just say that not everything for the newsies is working out at home right now.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: *whimpers* it's…been…so long… since I've written of my own accord…here… I hope they enjoy it… Hi! It's me. Again. After a really long time of not having an original story for Newsies. Actually I mean I just did one but I don't count it as it was a prompt story. So here have a cute little improvised one-shot that came literally straight out of my head from nowhere because why the heck not? I don't even know what it's going to be about…**

The familiar smells of wonderful foods and the baked breads-which were in his opinion the best in the whole city, all of the boroughs included-hit his nose and he took it in as much as he could, knowing that someday this wasn't going to be the best smell in the world because one day he'd smell better smells. The sounds of people trying to bargain or buying their breads and baked goods and such around him pleased him; it was familiar and he liked familiar things. Familiar things meant comfort and home to him. Silently going past each display and avoiding the looks people gave him at having their space invaded by some street-seller boy who had nowhere to hide himself in or anywhere to run to yet they were all the same and that's what he didn't get about it-and finally there was the place he enjoyed the most. There he could see the work being done. Thomas, the main chef, had taken a liking to him after a little while of him being around and it was that day where he could go in and sit there.

Thomas gave him a smile and then left, off to deal with some order or other no doubt. This was the biggest, well, best bakery in all of Manhattan in his opinion and Thomas agreed wholeheartedly. Ever since he'd gone to work with the newsboys, Thomas had told him he'd look after him. It was almost a fatherly-son relationship even when Thomas was only thirty himself, and had a family he was looking after; but they'd gotten along so well it was a surprise he wasn't part of that family.

"Ya got anyting for da boys?" He chuckled as Thomas walked in, placing a few loaves on the shelf behind them.

"If you want some, come an' get it." The older man held it above his head.

Refusing to leave the seat, the newsboy instead laughed hysterically as Thomas waved it above his head like a flag. It felt like home. And not just any home. Actually home. And he reveled on this for a moment like it was déjà vu but then decided no amount of thinking about it was going to do him any good and he needed to be free from that place for as long as he could. Jack said after all 'he shouldn't think about it for fear of ruining his health' or something of the sort. He couldn't ever remember.

After being called out to many more customers all over the next hour, Thomas finally came in with a few cupcakes and a tray of small baked goods for the whole lodging house. It would only supply them anyways. He could hardly think of what the others would do when they found out he'd been back. They loved the food from it, especially Crutchie, who always remarked on the fact that it was like tasting family.

"You okay, sonny?" The thick, Irish accented man looked at him a little more concerned than usual.

"Fine." He shook his head at Thomas, who shrugged and put the tray and cupcakes down on the counter, and once more was forced to walk out again at the call of a distant customer standing impatiently at the counter.

The more he analyzed it, the more he could only think about it and the more he thought about it, the more it became apparent to him. Maybe home could be found in baked goods and such. Maybe they had a point when they said home was wherever you feel loved.

Everything had fallen apart for him. He'd been shouted at by Jack. The guy hadn't been himself that day. It was all because of him that each newsie was trying to understand just what had happened. Yet none could. Not even himself. Jack Kelly was changed by something, and whatever that something was it had shouted at all of them. Even Crutchie, who had almost been reduced to tears but then had valiantly stood up for everyone when the yelling had stopped and the yeller had stormed off. Everyone had stared at him, looked to him for guidance when there was none else. And Crutchie took it. He sat down gingerly and looked them all in the eyes and smiled brightly, even if there were still tears rimming his own. He'd spoken with a sincerity.

"You all..wese gotta long way ta go before any of dis makes any sense. But don' worry 'cause soon, it will. And we'll get dis. It'll be okay." Romeo had run up to him and hugged him at this point, and Crutchie had winked over the younger boy's shoulder, trying to appear reassuring. Indeed, all the other boys including himself had been lifted in their spirits just a bit when they saw that wink, that smile, those brown eyes and dark hair hanging over Romeo.

"Hey," Thomas had suddenly popped up right in front of him, "hey don't cry, why are … what happened?" The guy sounded and looked so shocked that he wanted to give him a hug and break down, but he couldn't do that.

"It was…it ain't nothin'. Jus'…" He trailed off, looking at Thomas's brown eyes.

"It 'aint nothing' ain't gonna cover it. What was it? What happened at the lodging house?"

"Jack. Dat's what happened. You ain't gonna think so bu'…it did. An' dat's da problem. It ain't him, Thomas. That ain't Jack Kelly, the Jack Kelly. Not the one I followed." He blinked away the rest of the tears, an effort that hurt him deeply.

"Jack? What did something 'appen with his …"

The Irishman stopped as the Italian nodded slowly, biting his lip. And then Thomas gave him a hug, one that felt like one of the best in the world, the one he'd though would come from Crutchie or somebody. It was friendship that they had. Not quite the brotherly bond of a newsboy to another, but a friendship that he wanted to keep and clearly, clearly Thomas did too. Maybe he found home in this friendship too.

"Just take the food, please. You guys need it. You'll all be lost without it. I know. Come back if there is any trouble whatsoever after this." The baker gave a warm smile and the newsboy nodded.

Taking up the trays and nodding to the baker, he walked out of the fresh aromas and the beautiful array of baked goods and out into the cold, hard, bleakness of winter. A small smile popped onto his face for the first time that day. After all, with this snow, they weren't going to be working for a while because no one would be out to pay. They'd get to stay inside with…Jack. The smile disappeared once more.

If it wasn't for that danged bastard, not one of the newsies would have to suffer like this. He didn't know where the others had gone. It was so much like the time Kelly had almost abandoned them for Pulitzer, yet hadn't. They had been so relieved. But now it felt like it was really going to happen, well, it wasn't the same ordeal, but they would really be pulled away. Or the time he'd nearly gone to Santa Fe…

Racetrack found his way back to the lodging house in no time, and once there, was greeted by the silent eyes of several newsboys who followed him in, including Romeo who was red-eyed. They all were. Race smiled gently at the whole of them who were all sitting inside on the bunks, staring at him with the food in his hands. He put it down on the table and looked at the others expectantly. Slowly, the newsies came up to where Race stood and took food. Crutchie was one of the last and even though he was younger than Race himself, he looked older today. But that oldness disappeared as he smiled at Race, who found he could only smile back. Some rolled their eyes or averted them, not believing that either could smile at a time like this. But suddenly Race knew. This was home. And at home was where smiles belonged when they were needed most.

 **A/N: Oops did I say this was going to be a one-shot? Hahahahaha…. I lied. It's gonna be a chaptered story. I really didn't know this was how it was going to go but now that we all (including yours truly) need to know what the heck is wrong with poor Jack, I think I shall give it a shot. It's maybe an already used plotline kinda with Jack being moody but I think I shall also figure out his problem and it'll be unusual, different from others. So yeah. And also you might notice a pattern with how the chapters work. Anyways, hope you enjoyed that first chapter! Please, review, review, review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Author Fact: At the beginning of these projects or rather fanfics I am always super excited and then it slows down of course, but I hate leaving anything hanging at an edge and must finish it. Thus I am back again for a second night in a row! Yay!**

 **biankies: Thanks for reviewing, and thank you, I agree it was a hit to the feels to write about it after what it turned into….but there is more to come and I agree, I am glad as well that this is a chapter fic!**

 **And onward we trek! Through feels…**

Cold air hit his face. It was like something out of a fairytale, what had occurred that previous day and now every newsboy was still marveling at it, so now as he stood outside he questioned what he was doing. Acting this way was silly, because they all knew it wasn't going to get better but he told himself it had to because nothing was impossible and it would always be better. Everything had always gotten better for him.

Standing at the top of the lodging house and staring below, he watched people move slowly through the snow, the few people that were actually out and about that was. Man, two days after New Years and already it was like February. He hated it especially because it meant he wasn't going to be sleeping up there for a while now.

But sleeping up there would only bring back memories of …well he wasn't going to think about it. He would sleep with the others until the snow was cleared up. Then he would return in the spring no matter if his roommate did or not. No matter how much it hurt.

Making his way back down the ladder, he saw faces turn. Hopeful expressions, it was as if they had expected him to inform them that he was back from a talk. A conversation they all wanted to happen but knew it wasn't going to unless he confronted the little room that sat in the back of the lodging house where he was. It was one that for all night long he could hardly sleep without dreaming of it and knew today was the day it needed to happen. So who cared if the guy was still sore after it had only been a day in between? He needed some counseling. And the newsie knew it had to be him. Even Spot Conlon himself couldn't do this. He was closest to the bastard who had done this all. So many looked up to him now it was frightening and yet comforting at the same time.

Three knocks on the door. Three glances backwards. And finally an answer from within, a gloomy, grouchy reply from within that said if he wanted in get in but not to expect anything from it. There, practically lying on the table, was Jack. It hurt so much to see the older boy this way because his eyes were red and his position was frumpy and not at all comfortable to look at.

"What is it?" The eyes that normally showed so much affection for the one whom they glared at now seemed almost on fire.

"I jus' came in ta tell ya….Jack ya need to come back."

"I ain't going nowhere, okay? I'm not worth it. You all 're a bunch of street rats like I said ya were and like others before 'ave. I don't deserve this. No. No this ain't who I was 'spossed to be." He shook his head, and the comment struck the newsboy standing there, who cringed.

"I means da real Jack. The one wese know. Not dis Jack."

"An' you ain't gonna get it because this is the 'real Jack'."

"No you ain't the real Jack! The real Jack would be out dere with 'is boys an' actually givin' dem comfort and apologizin'!" He said loudly, glaring at the red-eyed boy who now was standing up straight, still glaring.

"An' you think youse can jus' let me become somebody 'gainst my will? You're jus' a crip. A lousy, no good, crip who ain't gonna get anywhere. We ain't going nowhere, don't ya get it?" Jack stared at him, but he didn't move. Those insults hurt. Oh, they hurt the black-haired boy so much that he wanted to scream and scream and scream at the one who'd sent them to him because he trusted him he loved him he wanted him to be okay after all that had happened but he couldn't because the boy standing across from him really was Jack, really was the boy he thought of as a brother, really was the one who had just insulted him, ignoring his own feelings, calling him what so many others had called him before.

So he just stood there and stared hard and long at Jack who didn't seem phased very much at first because this was nothing to him. He was angry, the younger boy could tell. Very much so and wouldn't be distracted from his anger by a stare. But soon he began to turn left, then right, then repeat the action, melting like wax as the stare continued. Neither moved their eyes from the others. Both had no fear for the other or feared their own state or how they'd come out of the place because right now the wax one was melting and the iron one was standing strong, like he had to.

And while the wax one melted, the iron remained tight and firm as usual. It hurt still, as iron can indeed become hurt, it can dent, but he shook it off. If anything was going to be done about this problem, he was going to do it.

The waxen figure suddenly came back to life and making an angry sound, came over and kicked him in the bad shin. The iron fell, became wax, and the wax became iron. As the roles reversed, the now wax one cried out in fear, but struggled to a standing position, ignoring the bolts of pain from his leg.

"Ya think you wanna challenge me ta something? Let me tell you it ain't gonna change. I am Jack. You ain't gonna get me out there any day." Jack growled, giving a glare that would have stabbed.

And the black-haired boy, eyes rimmed slightly and quivering, turned away from him, turned his back on what used to be his friend, and walked out of the room, ignoring anything Jack yelled at him, and slammed the door, clutching his leg and leaning against the nearest wall. He cussed under his breath. He was internally yelling at Jack, as he cussed, and was bent over so far he couldn't see that the others were close enough to hear the mutters of swearing coming from him as he held back the tears. An arm wrapped around his shoulder but he tried to shrug it off, not caring who it was. The arm retracted. Silence remained as he tried to continue breathing, the pain was more than he'd thought it was going to be, although his leg had been acting up, he blamed it on the weather, but it had been for a while now. It didn't concern him that much though.

"Hey…"A quiet voice next to him caused him to finally look up and see Race's grim features. "He ain't behavin' is he?"

"No." Was the small reply, as he felt more tears coming while he finally came to look around.

Newsies stared at him, eyes full of concern, faces drawn, knowing something had happened in that room that they didn't want to know about but also did at the same time. For someone like Jack to treat him like that and not run out apologizing…he couldn't bear the thought. Maybe Jack really was like that now. Maybe that was the real Jack.

As he tried to smile at the others, he could only have a small hope that Jack would pull through. But the smile faltered as another bolt of pain shot up his leg and two tears escaped his eyes, which he brushed back immediately. The others came closer, some muttering about getting back at Kelly for this. He didn't want that. Race pulled him into a hug, the Italian boy had been struggling as much as him, ever since he'd bought that food home last night it seemed he was in a silent stupor.

Crutchie buried his face in Race's shoulder, even though the boy was taller. Racetrack seemed to be there when he couldn't make up for Jack. He looked around at the others a little while later when the tears had gone and the pain was still there. It was a horrible thing to do, sobbing out of pain and anger into Race's shoulder with everyone watching. But he hadn't been able to hold it back. Now Crutchie leaned against the wall again and looked at the others, but he had no words still to say. Everything had come crashing down on him. Yet he had to be there for these guys because he could see they needed him because he was the only one who ever offered kindness and comfort in the entire house. Romeo looked like he wanted to bust into that room himself, which was unusual for him. Crutchie smiled again and then told them all that had happened in the room, saying it very loudly for everyone including the occupant of the room to hear, and not leaving out one single part.

 **A/N: NO WHAT HAVE I DONE THERE ARE NO WORDS I'M SO SORRY GUYS! Just kidding about the sorry part what I do here usually is done for everyone and there's nothing I'm taking back about this chapter. The feels though. Anyways, that was chapter two, I hope you enjoyed! Next chapter might come up soon! Maybe even tonight! Thank you for reading and please, review, review, review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Whoop another chapter! Yay! More pain! ….wow can't believe I just said that.**

 **biankies: Thanks for the review! And yes...well for this chapter I think you can put down the tissues till the last paragraph where the reason is let out and it will be further analyzed in the next chapter, but that is the only time you may need them for this story. So remember: last paragraph=tissues. Anyways, thanks again and thanks for the compliment!**

 **Okay, well, anyways, continuing the pain.**

The darkness was nice, something he hadn't experienced in a while because there were a few newsies who didn't like the dark and thus lights were usually on of some sort. Finally he got to stand in the dark, but this wasn't exactly a good thing. He was sitting outside in the darkness with his heads in his hands on the steps of the lodging house. The day hadn't gone well. Crutchie had tried to talk to Jack, and then it had apparently fallen apart on him because he had come out actually crying and in pain and all of them had nearly cried too, because they wanted to find comfort somewhere. At that time, Crutchie had been the only one who'd been able too and now he had told them all about it. His leg had gotten actually kicked by Jack and we'd known it was acting up, but now he was actually feeling it.

He sat there, trying to focus, but couldn't, his breathing was ragged and he was trying not to cry now. It was horrible. Jack shouldn't be acting like this. They needed to stand up for themselves. But of course who was he to say they needed to? He wasn't a big name. He wasn't even very good at anything, he couldn't speak up like Crutchie or lead like Race.

The tears finally came and he let them pour, sobbing into his knees. The snow was coming down now, and it was freezing. He felt his tears freezing on his face. His body trembled where he sat, he was so scared, so worried for Jack, he wanted him to be okay. He was their brother. After all that had happened he couldn't understand but he wanted to as much as the others did.

Yet Crutchie had gotten hurt. So that was a big factor, and he hated that it kept appearing in his head, he didn't want to think about it, and it kept coming back. It was because of how much it had hurt everyone. They'd all gone and sat alone after that, after Race had taken Crutchie over to his bed and then gotten a few people to get food with him from that same bakery. Now he was crying where no one else would find him on the back steps.

The sobbing continued. And then someone was there, someone stood behind him, someone was there and actually cared about him.

"Hey, are you okay…?" The boy said behind him. Spot? What was he doing here?

"S-spot?" He lifted his eyes a little bit. The guy hadn't really ever cared for him anyways, so why was he here?

"Yeah, shore is kid. The others are jus' as upset an' wanted ta know where ya were." The other boy lit a match, and then a cigarette. He normally didn't smoke, it was unusual to see, but he just shrugged it off as a thing right now.

"Oh…" He sighed, chin in hands now and tears still streaming down his face.

"Look, I get it. It ain't fair, none of dis. Jack ain't…ain't…I tried ta talk ta 'im as well."

"An' you choosin' ta tell me?"

"Yeah. It ain't normal. That attitude…I had ta hit him over the head several times an' then he jus' sat down. They ain't very hard hits." Spot said, sitting down as well on the cold, hard, stair. "Ise seen what Crutchie's like an' it hurts ta see him like that 'cause Jack's the reason. But he is Jack. Dat's Jack doin' all dis. I wanna say it ain't him. But it is."

"How then…" He stuttered, looking away now. It couldn't be Jack. That wasn't how Jack was, it couldn't be.

"It is. Ise know ya don't wanna believe me, but it is. You gotta see it for youself."

There was once more silence as they remained sitting. Too much was given over to think about on that cold night, and the silent one was more silent than the other who merely puffed and sat deep in thought, a king with a knight. The knight soon turned over to look at the king, who smiled gently back as if trying to reassure, but kings aren't the best with that type of thing. Nevertheless, the knight felt slightly better and went back to thinking once more for a little while.

"You all got the guts ta try an' confront 'im?" Spot said while puffing a bit more, knight turning to see king staring out at the falling snow.

"Ise dunno. Maybe. It all jus' depends." The knight replied, shrugging. "He ain't being reasonable 'case ya didn't notice."

"Oh I did. I did."

The sounds of someone talking loudly in the lodging house caused them both to pick their heads up. King nodded to knight and they stood slowly, brushing off excess snow that had landed on their clothing and walked inside slowly, to hear the conversation that was going on. Every newsie was standing around watching Race and Crutchie who stood in the middle, and currently Race was talking.

"Ya see, we gotta pull this together on our own. I ain't goin' ta know when that's gonna happen. I was talkin' ta Davey the other day an' he ain't going to be around for a little while longer 'cause they're keeping him at school and stuff. But 'es gonna be 'ere. He said he wants ta help." Race said, looking around. "I jus' don' know whats we gonna do with dis all."

The knight sighed to himself. He wasn't really doing well with this whole idea of getting others to help. Pulitzer certainly wasn't, he was probably in a similar state as Jack for multiple reasons. The whole "World" business was closed, had been, for a few days now on a temporary pull. Other newspapers had not but the circulation office was run by "The World" so it was shut down as well.

Slowly the newsboys nodded and agreed and then moved off. He followed Spot up to where Race stood next to Crutchie and Spot began talking with Race. Crutchie approached the newsie who had followed Spot.

"Ya think Davey's gonna make a difference?" He said this to Crutchie, who looked a little drained for some reason but for the moment chose to ignore it, because he didn't want to think for the worst.

"Maybe. I shore hope so. We gotta get Jack out inta livin' an' all again."

"Yeah but dat ain't easy, Crutch." He said, and the other boy just smiled gently.

"He's gonna be fine someday. Jus' like Pulitzer." Crutchie really was good at coming up with replies.

Specs could only grow increasingly hopeful at the idea of this as he adjusted his glasses and watched Crutchie walk out to his own bunk. If this was the case, if Jack could get over the death of Katherine, if Davey could help, then it would be amazing. Everything could be solved. Specs found he was suddenly so hopeful that he wanted to tell the others that this would be a solution. After Katherine had died, Jack was so angry and everyone had been sad but…he couldn't seem to get over it. And then there was something else too. Specs turned to see the newsies around him talking and stuff, and felt comfort in it, realizing he needed to be with these guys and whatever happened with Jack, they would be with each other. They were all brothers.

 **A/N: So… um… yes I did just drop that weight on you all suddenly and then run away snickering like I'd dropped a bomb. Maybe the ending seemed cheesy. Next chapter will be less cheesy. Some action again I suppose. Well that was chapter three, I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading and please, review, review, review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So I might've not mentioned this and I know I didn't for a fact, but it's not always from a newsboy's POV…so yeah, welcome to the world of a character we both fear, love, hate, despise, but will eventually feel sorry for due to this whole problem. You've probably already guessed who it is. And probably are right.**

 **biankies: Aw, thank you! And yeah they're all destroyed and that's pretty much my goal in the writing world. Hehehe.**

Take deep breaths. That's what everyone around the whole establishment had been saying, at least. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it felt. But as old as he was, it was just that bad and he hadn't given a thought to anyone else in ages. The building ran like normal, but he didn't. Still at home and sitting in front of his desk, questioning the words written down on the letter in front of him like it was some sort of mysterious code.

To him, it in a way was. A letter written by her boy, a letter he'd never thought he'd have to deal with. Or reply to, for that matter. Maybe it was best to leave it be. Perhaps they should all just let everything just _be_. Life was easier that way.

"Sir, we have some representatives coming in today from Queens." Henry was standing in front of him, but he shook his head.

"I think it's best if we let them go. For now."

"But sir-"

"I demand to be left alone. What else do you think I would be doing? It's hard enough as it is without people coming and sticking their noses in everything, which in case you haven't noticed, is human nature."

Growling a bit about the state of the entire city and leaning farther back in his chair as if he could disappear into it, he re-read the letter again and again.

 _I was too late, but you must hear me out._

 _I want you to know that in memory of her, and in her honor, I've decided to keep everything she ever gave me. But I also want you to know that I am leaving soon. Heading off to … well I'm not sure. As you may have guessed, I would have originally said "Santa Fe" but now everything about it seems like a childish dream. I think I'll be heading south…or north…anywhere but here. Up to the mountains, maybe? I'm not sure._

 _You of all people will understand. I'm completely outraged at this happening, but of course no one could prevent it. That disease is a horrible thing and I can't stand living like this any longer._

 _So enclosed is my resign form. I refuse to draw anymore for your welfare or mine in this city._

 _Sincerely yours,_

 _Jack Kelly_

A few spelling errors, quite a few, actually, but aside from that he was regarding it as a very nicely written letter that needed to be thought about a little longer. It seemed that no matter what he did, that boy had always been there. He'd almost wanted to check on him once, but after hearing what Kelly was doing to himself from a newsboy he'd happened to catch on the street, that was all he could manage.

If things could go right for a change, this would be indeed very different. But after she had been told this was what she had, it had all gone downhill from there. He wasn't as desperate as Jack, he knew that very well, but he also knew that he was just as on edge and furious as well as upset.

Henry walked off, leaving him in a trance. This was mostly what he had been like for days now, lost in his thoughts. It made him feel weak, defenseless. But at the same time as if this were the proper thing to do. It may just be that this was what it was. Or maybe it wasn't. Parenting must be done right.

Ever since her mother had died when she was a child, that's what he'd convinced himself was how it had to be. Never leave her alone, let her grow up with him. It had indeed gone a bit far overboard in some cases, but in most he thought of himself as a perfectly grand father and wanted to keep it that way. Yet he had finally failed. And of course that failure had been that he hadn't protected her from such things. After accepting Kelly into the family, it had taken one twist after another, most good, but then came the one slip up and everything was gone. It wasn't even the boy's fault, he'd made sure that was clear. The funeral was in a few days anyways, which left him time to think further on this topic.

That was part of the problem: he wasn't sure if he wanted to think further on this topic in the first place. Talking about it brought him to complete and utter tears, Henry had tried, Emily-the maid-had tried, but to no avail. He didn't get angry and shout, he merely stood there with tears flowing down his face, looking at them and feeling completely wasted.

What did finally pull him out of his thoughts was the sudden arrival of a dirty looking boy, and a frantic one at that. Well, to put it properly, more of a tired, disheveled boy. Henry was right behind him, but did not stop him.

"Sir, I'd like to…ya need ta know what's happened."

"What was your name again?" He asked, instead of rushing into details. Deep in his mind, he had an inkling of an idea what the boy was going on about.

"Conlon, Spot Conlon, sir. Wese was wonderin' if ya got any info on this matter." Spot walked slowly up to the desk, and placed his hands upon the wooden surface. The man didn't move an inch.

"Did he take the train?"

"He-you…ya knew?" The teenager stuttered, staring at him with wide eyes, disbelieving.

"He wrote it in here." Handing the letter to Spot, he watched the boy's eyes grow wide as he read the letter, going farther and farther down until he'd finished it. He was a little surprised the boy could read it, but didn't question it any further.

"'e was plannin' on it. That bastard. We'se gonna get him back. Thanks." Spot began to leave, putting the letter down on the table and nearly sprinting out of the room.

"Hold on a moment." Pulitzer called, looking at the other. "If you want help, I believe he's taking the train north. I just have the feeling that's the way he'd go. She'd have wanted to go to Santa Fe. Jack Kelly would never go to Santa Fe without his Ace."

 **A/N: Oh. Ow. Um. Well this is uncomfortable…well I hope you enjoyed! Hehehehe. Thanks for reading! Can't wait to see who I break this time! Thanks again and please, review, review, review (so I can see if I broke you like Pulitzer wanted to break the newsboys.) !**


	5. Chapter 5

Panicking, he ran back and forth swiftly, watching at each end of the alley he had been assigned to. Things had been in full panic mode like this for the past few hours, each newsboy taking to his own corner of the city and trying to find Jack before the others. No one really knew where to start because they all were in a complete state of shock. Just thinking of the moment Spot had come out of the room with an expression of sorrow and fear that none of them had ever dreamed of seeing on his face, of all faces, made the boy want to sit down and cry instead of focus so intently on searching the city streets.

Conlon had announced it slowly, after being cornered by all of them. Crutchie, though, had pushed them all away gently, allowing the other some room. And then Spot just said it, plain and suddenly out in the open.

"'e's gone."

Nothing else needed to be said. Crutchie was the first to react, making his way into that little room faster than anyone thought they'd ever seen him move, excusing a few times before, and then came back out with tears in his eyes. Speaking hadn't needed to be done. It occurred to each of them that at some point in time, they'd been suddenly thrust into needing to be prepared for this before. But Jack had never done it, so therefore it was absolute chaos. Spot and Crutchie had both headed to the train station, both looking absolutely miserable and Crutchie practically in tears. As far as he knew, no one had seen either of them since then, which had been a few hours ago.

The shock had numbed him at first so now here were the emotions he'd been expecting. Jack, who'd been there always, Jack, who promised he'd stay with them because he had her, Jack, making a promise he wasn't going to keep. Even without that other person in his life, there had to be some mistake in suddenly taking off. Each of them knew it but not one dared to speak it. It had been silent as they left the lodging house, and each made his own way to his own place where he might need sorrow or perhaps had the hope that they'd spot the leader coming back.

Burying himself in his arms, the newsie broke into sobs. Finally he could cry. Holding it in had hurt a lot, and now when he was the most vulnerable, he was finally able to let it all out. It was a good feeling too, as cold as it was in the place between buildings. People weren't around, that's what made it better. Aiming to get grounded, he looked around at the empty windows and watched the world fall to peace with itself.

If there was one thing that he'd learned in his years of being a newsboy, it was to take in all that was around you. After charming any ladies, of course, but then even that could be considered part of that rule. Most of the others seemed to use it for that as well, so by a longshot he wasn't alone. He just had his little place in the realm of things with that certain topic. Just like Jack had with his way of drawing and impressing anyone. And now he was gone from that position like the flame on the wick of a candle in a hurricane.

Realization, if anything, was probably the worst thing he could imagine. It hit him in that moment: if Jack was gone, he wasn't coming back. Why would anyone come back to New York after they were already here? People just didn't seem to do that. Maybe that's why when he had first discussed leaving, they were all so fearful. Well, that was one of the many reasons. But when he hadn't they'd just assumed it was all over for good.

But he did admit that it should have arisen to all of their suspicions at one point or another during these previous few days. After all, wasn't it the one thing he could do that would make them all desperate to have the real Jack back? Of course it was and of course it meant they weren't.

"Ya gonna sit there all day?" A soft voice from above him said. He looked up to see Race, who'd always favored him anyways, but the older boy was red-eyed and miserable looking himself.

"Nah." The reply was quiet, scared, and timid.

"I get it. But we gotta keep tryin'." Race pulled him up, and he leaned against the taller boy, holding onto him around the waist.

They were silent as Race led him out of the alley and walked in the direction of the lodging house. If everyone had given up, what was the point of anything anymore? That was, if that indeed was the reason why Race was taking him there. If everyone was back it meant things had gone badly. He spent the whole walk hoping that nothing had gone absolutely wrong, that things would get better. Why could things never get better for them?

Once inside the building, though, he realized most were still gone. The only ones who had returned were Crutchie and Spot for some reason, but he didn't want to think about why. The king of Brooklyn was seated in a chair, head in hands, hair pushed up through them. Crutchie was sitting on the edge of a bunk, holding his leg and probably checking it for anything further than just a bruise. Most of them had been really concerned-himself included-about the state of that darned leg after what Jack had apparently done to it and what with the weather and all, but Crutchie had only agreed to check on it occasionally because they'd ordered it out of him. He was their last remaining hope after all; the younger boy saw him as almost as much of a leader as he had to Jack, and so did everyone else.

They both looked up when Race and he entered, Spot dropping his hands and Crutchie's hands leaving his leg.

"Ain't nothing down at that station." Spot said, his throat hoarse.

"Ya had a right to check." Was all Race replied. The newsboy still wrapped around him let go and settled down on a bed, watching the others. He was scared of what he'd hear here anyways.

"I tol' Pulitzer…an' he…he suspected it. He knew, actually." The sentence from Spot shocked him like ice cold water, and he sat frozen for a few minutes. "Ise think Kelly mighta sent him a letter of some sort."

"An' he just let him go? 'is best artist?" He hadn't meant to speak up, but at this he found he was angry at the old man for letting anyone do this at all. They all looked to Spot.

"'Parrently."

The nod from Conlon confirmed his fears. They weren't getting Jack Kelly back here at any point in time. It might be years before they saw him again. And if that was the case, none of them would be ready for it because they'd all have to deal with the aftermath of such an action. It hurt a lot still. He knew his eyes were as red as the others around him were. They all looked awful, each of them had been in tears recently and that he was sure of.

For a few minutes it felt like there was a tension as each of them delved farther into the situation. He watched, he waited, and then it came. All four of them broke into silent tears, just sitting there, crying hard. Everything they had known was coming to an end. It was finally here. Maybe this would change everything, none were too sure. He looked over to Race, but the newsboy was covering his own face with his cap so there was no help from him.

Romeo decided he was going to comfort the other three in any way he could, because if he couldn't find comfort in them, they were going to get it from him. Slowly he made his way to a standing position and looked at them all, allowing a small smile to grow while tears streamed down it.

"We gotta let the others know." He announced, watching the silent nods. This was when Romeo was going to pull the final strings, and he had just done so with this. They had to break it to the others. Change was here. And change was coming.

 **A/N: No, this is not the end. Don't panic. The end is not here yet, it's in a while I think because I have the feeling we're extending this to THE FUTURE next. So don't worry. It's not over yet. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and please, review, review, review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This is just a tiny short little chapter, because of holidays, I managed to simply come up with this and then I'll do more lately, I promise you. Also it's not jumping into the FUTURE as I put it, as that didn't work out so well…but…here's a small tidbit for your enjoyment before the next full length chapter. And yes, I'm counting this as a chapter, just a small one.**

He raced down the station, and got a ticket as soon as one was offered in front of his face. No use wasting time now, when everyone would soon be looking for him. The anger and pain was complete agony to him, but he held it all off so that he would just be able to make it somewhere else before collapsing. Once inside the train, he sat down heavily in a seat and ignored all those around him who looked at him with curious faces, shoving his face into his hands.

Things had been going badly for a while; he should've guessed it would remain that way. But there had been some tangent of hope…hope that she would make it. It hadn't worked. Now all of his "friends" were trying to convince him it wasn't something to be completely destroyed over, but it was. That's all it was or ever would be. They just didn't understand and he didn't regret anything he'd done.

Common sense, that's all it took to understand his position. He had just been robbed of the one girl he'd found to be his perfect match and all they could do was tell him to act normal again? He was acting plenty normal, how was this not normal? He was himself. This was who he was. And maybe it didn't seem normal to others, but normal in his world wasn't much of a thing. So wherever the train took him, he'd accept it. He'd take it. It gave him protection.

The ride was long, and he wasn't sure where he was going anyways. Maybe south, maybe north. Whatever the ticket said, really. His whole body was numb; it was numb with fear and shock and a bit of hunger. He managed some sleep but other than that, he was obviously the mess on the train. The people around him were a little alarmed at his state but didn't comment.

At some point all he could think about were specifically his friends, and he couldn't quit thinking about what he'd done and said to Crutchie. The boy deserved it. Only a small part of him stung from what he had done, but that small part was deemed dumb and unworthy of attention by the rest of him. He'd thought the younger boy was his friend, but then he'd tried to go and make things better and it wasn't working. Nothing was ever working because nothing ever did.

Spot had tried too, but the oaf wasn't bright enough to do it. Or at least, didn't really know what he was saying. Or that's what this boy thought. It hadn't taken much to get the King of Brooklyn in a rage, it never had, and now he was leaving them all behind.

It was a nice feeling, the feeling of letting go. Letting go of what held him back the most. They were all the cause of this, and they were the problem, so why not just let everything be solved by running away from it?

The train stopped at some point, and everyone got off, so he followed. What money he had, he stored safely in his pockets and carried only a small suitcase-courtesy of the earnings he got from being an artist for "The World"-of clothing and other materials. It was enough.

They were in a different city now, and he breathed in the new city scents. It was bright and early in the morning, the sun shining outside of the station, and he read a sign that informed him that he was in Washington, D.C., the capitol city of America. A new beginning seemed to open up in front of him and he smiled to himself, despite the pain it cost him and the memories that flooded back at the mention of even a smile.

Jack Kelly stepped out onto the sidewalk of D.C. and decided to try a new life. He didn't know how it would go at all, but he was going to try. He also didn't know that this was not going to work, and that not at all long after, he would be tracked down by his friends. But in the meantime, Jack was relieved of his duties as a leader and though young, tried his hardest at being an adult.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Pffft the holidays never stopped me! ….well here I am. On Easter. Publishing yet another chapter. I love this story can't you tell? Where are all the reviews to prove that I am writing good stuff. Hello? Is this good enough for you? I hope so. Please tell me we've been around. Thanks. Okay. Onwards through probably severe pain.**

It had been a while since he'd managed to escape his work to come there, but when he did, he was enveloped in hugs and tears. To start from the beginning of his visit: things really began when his mother turned to him and suggested he get out of the house. Unaware of everything that had gone on in the past week, he agreed to it and left without his brother following him. It was better that way, he decided.

Out into the bright, snowy city streets he came, trundling through what was the cause of a very long snowstorm. People weren't really active currently and he noticed truly how quiet it was the closer he got to Newsies Square. Not a single scream of headline was heard, no jokes, and no sign of any boys leaning on one another. Sure it had snowed, but he didn't think it was bad enough to drive them all inside. Most of the time they refused to even stay inside because snow meant they'd get to fight each other. But maybe a sickness was spreading about. He hoped not, that wasn't going to be good, if he came home and had to explain why he had a high fever at 2 in the morning after being out here all day.

Approaching the lodging house itself, he took in how quiet it was. It felt sort of like they'd all actually died. Where was everyone?

It took a few minutes to gain the courage to knock on the door at all. He really didn't want to be faced with some man who told him that they were all locked up in the hospital, many dead, some barely alive. When he did knock, it felt like it took ages for everyone to answer. For a few minutes he just gazed around, watching the snow fall from the roofs. The sun wasn't out and it wasn't hot, but snow just seemed to fall and then create drifts in the city. Finally the door opened to reveal a tired looking boy. Race. They stood for a few minutes, while he looked Race over, staring at the miserable boy. Something had happened and he needed to know what.

"Er…come in." Race finally said, opening the door a little further so he could enter. Nodding, he walked in, and heard the door close quickly behind him.

Inside the actual sleeping quarters off the side of the hallway, he saw that every newsie was seated either on a bed or the floor, playing cards or simply sitting with a forgotten cigar hanging out of their mouths. And all looked just as miserable and tired as Race did. A few in the corner were talking in hushed voices, and he walked over to see Crutchie, Spot, and Romeo, stare up at him. They seemed to be just as surprised as Race had been.

"Take a seat. We got a bit a 'splaining to do." Race himself walked over and sat down, putting his chin in his hands and watching them all.

"What is this all about?" Asking them crossly, he watched their faces for any signs of emotion.

"Ya gotta be kidding me, no one told ya? Do ya even read the paper?" Romeo was staring at him dead on like he was the stupidest person in the world, then the younger boy sighed. "It started a few weeks 'go. Months, 'ctually. Ya know how Katherine was…sick an' all?"

"No…" He drew in a sharp breath, looking at all of them.

"Yes." Crutchie nodded, his dark head bobbing up and down with defeat.

"She … she died. Jack…he ain't…he didn'….there ain't much to say 'bout it….he wasn't Jack. For days. An' then one day, he just … leaves." Racetrack finished.

"He left? He just…left?" He stared at them even harder now, anger boiling in the pit of his stomach. "Did he even know what he was doing?"

"Not a damn clue. An' that's 'cause it ain't Jack who left. That … that ain't Jack wherever he is now. It ain't." Spot shook his head, and the others nodded. "Ya shoulda seen what he done. Kicked Crutchie here in the bad leg when he tried ta talk some sense ta him."

"He did not. How… No. You're right. That wasn't Jack at all. That was some bastard."

"Ya got that right." Crutchie nodded, and he just now noticed that he was the worst looking at all of them, which didn't surprise him as much as it might've given any other time.

"And you don't know where he went?" All shook their heads. "Great."

Race looked at him dead on. "We think it musta been somewhere south. Ain't no Santa Fe, but south."

"I do believe that's probably better of a theory than any other. But…how…how's it going here?" He was dying to know, he was worried for all of them.

"We gonna make it. But we's also gonna get Jack back heah again 'cause he isn't himself, and who knows what'll happen if he's out in the public." Crutchie said quietly.

There were a few moments of silence as he took this all in and they waited for any response. They'd always viewed him as the one with the brains for this type of stuff, but now he just wanted them to the be the ones to take care of it all since they seemed to know best. He knew Jack very well, but he didn't want Jack to have to face trouble and he wasn't sure how to get the guy back in where he belonged. If he wasn't himself, it meant he was more dangerous. Especially if he'd gone and kicked Crutchie, who everyone knew was his closest friend and always would be, in the bad leg. That meant something was definitely not right.

Maybe a mental institution would be able to help, but he was betting that friends would help more so than anyone else. A counselor wouldn't be able to talk sense into Jack. But then again, if they'd in fact all tried before…

"We are gonna do this ourselves, ya gotta be aware of dat." Conlon stuck in, making sure he was aware of this point. "We are the only ones who gotta do this. You ain't even know that much 'bout Jack Kelly ta the point where ya could talk sense into him."

"I'm gonna end up doin' it again. Get him inta a room with others where he ain't able to do nothing. But first, we gotta get him back. We didn't consider you in on this at all, I think we forgot you were out there, but now you might jus' be our only option to gettin' him back." The black haired cripple was looking at him again, with those brown eyes that you just wanted to trust. He nodded slowly.

"I'll do anything I can. But it's going to take trying to track him down, and we don't even know where he went."

"Ticket master at the station was da most reliable source." Race held up a paper, with a glimmer in his eye.

Taking the paper, he read it. All the details seemed to be in order and neat. Printed from who knows where, of course, but it read as follows.

 _Ticket bought by: Jack Kelly_

 _Ticket to: Washington, D.C._

 _Description of young man made by ticket seller-_ he stopped reading after that, not needing a full explanation on what Jack Kelly looked like, and looked up at them again.

"You asked all of this at the station? So how do you expect us to find him in D.C.?" He eyed them all carefully.

"We's gonna send a letter to the most obvious job spot he gonna get. A newspaper like The World. An' trust me, there ain't too many ta choose from so we'll get 'im down soon enough." Romeo said, nodding.

"And how do you expect to send a letter to him? This handwriting on this paper was bad enough."

"My friend, that's where you come in." Spot grinned.

Davey looked around at them all for a moment in no small amount of astonishment, then sighed. Of course this would be the reason he would get pulled into it. He was still trying to get the facts all straight in his brain: Jack had left because Katherine was dead and now was in Washington, D.C., and making all of the newsies suffer back at home. It was a lot to process, and he would need time with it. But instead of giving up right then and there like he'd wanted to, Davey turned to look at each of them. Crutchie, with a small amount of hope still in his eyes, Romeo with the hope of a fool, Race, who was acting as a leader no doubt, and Spot, with that sternness he'd come to know the boy with. Who was he kidding? There was no way he was going to be able to get away from this one.

"Alright. I'm in."

 **A/N: Well that was chapter seven, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading, and seriously I hate begging for reviews but um hi is this good enough quality writing or are we all just super picky (because sometimes I get like that too I get it but um hi) ….?-a.k.a. PLEASE review, review, review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: And here I am again. I apparently love this story too much. Just kidding. I love it just enough to keep updating.**

 **BookLuv: YAY! THANK YOU! And same here. So do I.**

 **Also I realized I really haven't put a disclaimer anywhere so… Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine except the few OCs I created, which are few and far between. This chapter is a little tidbit that's just needed and then hopefully I can get up a slightly longer chapter up soon as well.**

"Take the pape an' get it down there." Race handed him the paper, a small smile on his face, looking down at him from the step. He nodded, and raced off down the street, dodging anyone who passed him.

The paper, or rather, letter, was to be delivered to the telegraph officers. He was the chosen one to take it there. It felt rather important, considering this was the letter that might make or break all of them back at the lodging house. This was the letter that had taken weeks to come up with; and then to be able to have a written address on it took even longer.

Davey had done all he could, and they had been extremely nervous for a very long time. It had taken forever to find out where Jack was, and even then, it had been worse trying to find the address. A month had gone by. They'd managed to find out that a man under the name of "Francis Sullivan" was working for a newspaper in Washington, D.C. Crutchie had mentioned that "Francis Sullivan" was the alias Jack had talked about using if he ever had to use one. It wasn't his name at all, and Crutchie had admitted it was a rather ugly name, but they were relieved to find out that he actually existed. All had wondered how on earth they'd managed to find out that he was in D.C., but they had and it worked. Indeed, there he was.

So now he was running down the street with the letter and wondering what would happen when he delivered it. He hadn't slept much that past night, knowing he'd be the one to deliver this letter, and now he was realizing it would have been better to sleep.

The cloudy sky was telling the newsboy that if he didn't get back soon, he'd be soaked. Getting sick now wasn't a desire, and anyways it was hard enough with the snow on the ground. Since the clouds were snow clouds, he knew without a doubt that there would be more snow. Some of the other boys were already showing signs of sickness, including Crutchie. He was the worst off as usual, and when they weren't off selling papes in the horrible weather, they were surrounding the crippled boy and talking to him, including him in any conversation they possibly could. Crutchie had become their leader, and was relied upon most of the time. So while he was sick, they wanted to keep him company as much as possible.

Noone mentioned that he was sick. Noone asked him how he felt, because they were all a little scared that it could be worse than ever before. It seemed pretty bad, but they didn't linger on it for the moment. And he tried not to think about it as he finally entered the office where the telegram officers sat.

"Sir." He handed the man sitting at the counter the paper.

"Thank you." The man replied, and he nodded, rushing back out.

Once back at the lodging house, he sighed in relief, entering slowly. The rest were all seated back near the bed where Crutchie was, no one was working at this hour. They all looked up at him in expectation when he did enter, and he nodded.

"It's sent." He smiled.

"Yes!" Some said, others whistled, and some gave a loud "whoop!" of excitement.

He came and sat down by Buttons, who thumped him on the back. It made him realize how desperate they really all were for Jack to come be their leader again. Even Crutchie had managed a wide grin and was laughing at something Spot had said. Looking around it was easy to tell the month had worn off on all of them, some were exhausted looking while they were super excited, and some looked so pale they seemed like a ghost from being inside or afraid all of the time.

The more Albert thought about it, the more he began to realize they relied on each other. They really did, each newsie did their best to provide support through any tough times another might be having. And he had just done his own part, by delivering the letter that could change all of their lives once more, and bring normalcy back.


	9. Chapter 9

The snow was falling fast again, making up for the fact that instead of back where he was supposed to be, he was here, sitting in the lodging house in Manhattan, talking to Crutchie, Race, and a few others talking about what would happen as soon as Jack came home. They'd discussed this for hours it seemed, and days, but they were wondering exactly what to say or do. Of what would happen if Jack didn't come. He hadn't made any promises yet through letter yet. The message had been sent a week ago, and they were still waiting patiently. No one had thrown up their hands and given up, which was a bit of a relief for all of them.

"Ya gotta admit, he's good at sneakin' away." Race spoke suddenly. He was in a rather uncomfortable looking position, with his legs across Romeo's lap-who was seated in a chair-and the top half of his body on the back end of a bunk.

"An' dat's why we ain't gonna let him go again." The retort from Crutchie was sharp enough to make Race go a little pale, then he just shrugged.

"If you all are gonna argue 'bout it, it ain't worth it." He said, looking at the both of them with a grin on his face.

"Aw, come off of it." Race punched him lightly in the shoulder, but he continued grinning. "Oh fine."

"As I was sayin'," Crutchie sent a death glare to Race, "we gotta keep tabs on him once he gets here. If Ise learned anythin' 'bout Jack in the past years, it's that once ya get 'im in a place, he's likely ta escape."

"An' that's why I gotta buy a lock or something, right?" Offering this, he shot Race another glance and looked back at Crutchie, who just shook his head in amusement.

"Ya can if ya'd like. I mean, if you got the money." Once done saying this, Crutchie started coughing dreadfully, and they waited nervously, watching the boy carefully.

He was worried for the younger boy, he had to admit. There was something particularly nasty about this cold, but of course Crutchie wouldn't admit it. A stubborn mule, he was, but he had guts. This struck him as he sat there waiting for the coughing fit to be over with the others: truly how strong they all had to be after living on the streets for so long. It was a bit funny and ironic to him all at once how the crippled ones were always the strongest. Crutchie never admitted defeat, while a person like Jack or himself would in fact cripple under weight of some horrible disaster and leave immediately. He vowed right then and there that if anything like this ever happened to him, he wouldn't abandon his friends or family if he had one. No way. He had to be just as strong as Crutchie.

Looking out the window in the silence that followed, he wondered if it was snowing this much down in D.C. where Kelly was. Chances were, probably not. It was south anyways, and probably hadn't been nearly as bad of a winter as they'd had here. The snow had been going down for so long that they wouldn't be able to walk anywhere, and he for sure wasn't getting back home for a while. It was fine-he knew his boys would be okay.

"What was in that letter anyway?" Crutchie asked, the one question they'd all been a little scared he'd ask. It had been so long since the letter was sent-or felt like it at least-that they were all hoping he just wouldn't, but of course he would. He knew when to strike, and ask the important questions, obviously from spending so long around Jack.

"Um…" Race looked to the both of them for help. He just shrugged at the other, and Romeo did too.

"What did ya put in the letter?" Crutchie asked again, this time looking more suspicious. "You pleaded ta him, didn't ya? Gettin' 'im ta pity me?"

"Look, Crutch, we needed ta." He explained quickly. "Jack … Jack wouldn'ta wanted ya to be sick an' he not be there an' there's only so many ways he's gonna come back. We didn' … pity, 'xactly, just tol' 'im what was goin' on."

"An' ya used that…I shoulda figured I couldn't stop you." The boy shook his head, looking at the ground briefly. He felt bad that they'd done this to Crutchie, but it couldn't have been helped. They'd only told Kelly the truth, and the full of it. The guy needed to know.

"If ya wanna know what we really said, I can tell ya he'll be willin' ta tell ya the details later on once he gets his ass over heah." He said, and the others nodded around him. Crutchie sighed a little bit but nodded as well.

"Anyways, what else do youse think we was gonna say?" Romeo asked.

"I dunno, maybe somethin' more along the lines of "we love ya like a brother, come back" and not "Crutchie's sick again, an' we know ya love him like a brother so come back" an' with something along the lines of "give us money so we can pay for 'im an' any treatment he's gonna need"."

There was abrupt silence after this. Sure, he knew for a fact they hadn't put that in there, but it struck the chord of realization in each of them. That was almost exactly what they'd all be hoping, but of course Crutchie wouldn't have been and that hadn't occurred to any of them. He was the one who was sick, he was also the one of them who never really pitied himself and didn't like to get much sympathy. He refused to be the one everyone cared for. He refused to be the one who was spent money on.

Jack of course had more money than any of them, and partially that had been the hope because they all knew Crutchie needed something to help him. But Crutchie himself didn't see it as that and therefore it was more difficult to have to explain to him then it was to anyone else. He felt worse as he analyzed this further, and looked at the boy in the chair who was staring at all of them with humor in his eyes. Why did he look so suddenly amused?

"I shoulda guessed that's how you'd do it." He suddenly was chuckling, almost laughing, but they could all tell it hurt him to laugh so it was more like a giggle. "Well if that's how it's gotta be…"

"Yeah, it's gotta." He said, nodding, a smile on his face.

"Good for you all. Gettin' straight to the point." Crutchie continued his small laughter until he finally died down and sat there quietly.

"Well I gotta find a way home anyways." He stood up, looking out the window again.

"Nah, you can stay heah. It's safer." Race said, watching him.

"Ise ain't gonna stay in Manhattan with you all any longer. I'll make it."

Spot stood up, noticing their looks of disappointment as he did. He sighed a bit, just to make sure they knew he really was going and he wasn't joking, and started toward the door.

"Jus' don' get caught in a snowdrift." Crutchie called from behind him.

"I'll make shore of dat." Spot nodded, and walked out into the bleak cold, hunkering down against the snow, making his way back to Brooklyn where his boys were probably waiting up for him.

 **A/N: That's it that's chapter 9 everyone! HAPPY 4 YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO MY BABIES ON BWAY that is why I have put up two chapters for y'all so be happy two chapters on a special day. It hurts the feels a lot to think that they were on Broadway for the first time 4 years ago and only 2 years ago I saw them there on Broadway and now they're on tour and man I miss the original casts (not to make fun of the toursies I'm just prone to the ones I saw and the original as well). Well, hope you enjoyed thanks for reading and please, review, review, review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Well hello I'm back. For some reason. Just kidding but seriously where are my reviews? I don't normally like begging but…**

It felt like being punched in the gut with a block of cement. He stood there on the station platform, analyzing the crowd, waiting impatiently for a face they hadn't seen for what felt like ages, when in reality it was nearing two months. What would this face bring with it now? Pain? Misery? Misunderstanding of why he was here, why anyone was here? Chances were all three. He knew he probably stood out amongst the wild and raging crowds here, just a boy looking for another person like all these people were. Except they rushed with such great capacity and angst it was as if the world was ending and this was the place it was starting.

And then, out of the midst of the crowd, he spotted the familiar face that he'd been looking for. It looked tired, worn out almost. As if this was too much work and too stressful for him to be back after such a short time. Jack Kelly emerged out of the crowd with a wide-eyed stare at him, as if he hadn't expected anyone to be there at all.

"You-" Jack tried to begin speaking, but he threw himself into the taller boy, ignoring Jack's stutter of indignation to be attacked in such a way. He freed Jack almost immediately, but not before slapping him on the back several times.

"We knew ya'd come through, Jack." He tried to be as enthusiastic as one could be in such a situation, but admittedly, it was hard. With the way Jack looked, which was tired out and angry, he wasn't sure how much of a greeting the older one could get without snapping.

"I ain't…" Kelly seemed to be fumbling for words, grasping for them. He didn't allow them to fall through those lips.

"Come on, we'se gotta hurry. I get it. But ya gonna have ta talk ta Spot an' them all first." He started pulling Jack in the direction of the exit, and Jack actually gave in to being pulled along.

They sped through the streets, which were still covered in snow and ice, even in March. It had been a horrible winter, and none of the newsies had ever seen it like this before in their lifetimes. It was a bit stressful for work, but they'd managed to get around and stay alive. Pulitzer had even started supplying them with a bit of food, though they all knew he was still in mourning as late as it was and wouldn't ever give them any money.

Jack looked more accommodated. He wore nicer clothing, he was fresher looking than any of them ever had. The suitcase he carried was obviously new, and seemed to be quite heavy from the way he carried it. His shoes were not made for cold weather, snow, or ice, for he slipped quite a bit. It took all of the strength of the newsboy next to him to pull him up and along as they kept moving. The trees swayed with frozen ice, it was dangerous to stay out here at this time. It was early March, but as mentioned before, it seemed to have made no difference to the weather if it was January or July.

A tension that hadn't been there before had built up between both of them. He didn't know if Jack could feel it as well, but he certainly could and it wasn't helping the fact that they were nearing closer and closer to the lodging house, where surely that feeling would grow to an almost unbearable state with others feeling it as well. They'd all known it was going to be taking a chance, but he wasn't sure they were all ready for that chance yet since Jack seemed so distant anyways. The older boy was walking beside him with a look on his face that spoke of nothing but puzzlement and confusion.

"Heah we are." He opened the door to the lodging house, beckoning Jack in and following after him. The newsboys were all in the room with Crutchie no doubt, who wasn't looking much better even weeks later.

When they entered, it became utterly silent in the large space where all of the inhabitants aside from himself, sat. Jack stared at all of them, having gone utterly pale in the face. Goodness knows what he was thinking. Crutchie was staring at Jack with a look of pain, horror, and longing for a friend he'd lost on his face. Spot looked ready to punch someone, though that wasn't abnormal for the guy, and Race was motionless and paler than Jack if that was even possible. He found he appeared to be the one who needed to get things moving here, as no one else dared to move, and he took a step forward, looking at Jack, then back at the others.

"Well, 'e got heah." He knew he sounded resigned, but they wouldn't blame him, he knew that as well. A few mutters flickered through the room. Jack was busy looking wide-eyed at everyone, his eyes flicking over them and then landing on Crutchie. It was a sort of horrific thing, his face, when he saw Crutchie, and he immediately put his head down in shame, as if he blamed himself.

"Get over here." Spot finally broke out, he'd obviously wanted to do something, and now he was standing right in front of Jack and pulling him along.

He followed behind Jack, sitting down next to Romeo on the opposite side of the bed Crutchie was in, and the smaller boy gave him a little shrug, as if trying to be encouraging. Slowly others came and sat around the area, watching, waiting, listening carefully so they missed not a single word.

"Ya gotta admit, you did pretty well there, ain't ya?" Spot had a smirk on his face now. It was sort of awful in the way he was obviously angry but at the same time couldn't help but stare Jack down in amazement that he'd even made it.

"I…yeah." Jack could only nod, still speechless. He watched the others nod slowly too, and yet Crutchie was still staring at Jack quietly from his propped up position, although it seemed Jack could hardly look at him. A few more minutes of tense silence, and then Jack finally looked up at the dark haired boy in the bed, and they all took in a breath even though it was silent. "Crutchie…I…" Jack looked completely lost now, his face flickering with different emotions every few seconds. Crutchie gave a small nod.

"Youse got explaining ta do." He choked out through a cough, and Jack now looked more concerned than scared or ashamed. They continued watching as if it were the most tense thing they'd ever seen, which he had to admit, it was probably the most he'd ever gotten.

"I'm sorry." Jack tried, but it felt like it was too late. Most shook their heads, and Crutchie finally looked down and away, but stiffly as it probably hurt.

"Sorry ain't gonna cover this." It was Race's turn to sound angry, and angry he was, even more than Spot had been. Conlon himself was sitting subdued off to the side, and every once in a while, placed a rag on Crutchie's forehead, trying to keep the fever down. He watched the others lift their heads, and looked back to Race now.

"I…"

"'splaining will be good for youse. An' we'll let ya. Jus' not right now. Some people got things they gotta do." Race was cold in his manner, "Look what you left us with. But ya get to argue bout that later, I expect, cause right now, we gotta figure out what ta eat. The snow's been keeping everyone in."

Jack gave a nod of the head and everyone started talking a little bit then, while Race disappeared to no doubt go off and get food with Spot. Romeo looked at him and gave another small smile.

Mush couldn't believe what he'd just done had actually happened, and that everything was pretty much coming to what they'd wanted it not to. The tension, the fear, the remorse Jack was obviously feeling and the pain, and the pain Crutchie was feeling, and the pain all of them had on their minds as they watched those two try and talk for the first time in such a long while on such horrible terms. It was all too harsh for him to believe. Mush didn't want to believe it, but he was beginning to fear that maybe getting Jack to come back here was a bad idea. Maybe it would have been better if they'd left him alone.

 **A/N: Oooo pain. Anyways, thanks for reading that was chapter 11. I hope you enjoyed, and please, review, review, review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Welcome back again! I have returned! Only a little longer left on this story, I believe, or so we shall see.**

 **Biankies: Aw, it's okay. But thanks for reading it, and thanks for…loving it, I guess? Anyways, here's the next one!**

 **And on we go!**

It had begun with the morning breakfast not arriving on time as it should because Race overslept. He'd been awake all night, they all knew it, but none tried to stop him from sleeping in. It was better that way. Jack, on the other hand, had felt differently about it. That night had gone interesting enough, sort of rough around the edges, as he'd predicted. But when he'd come back with the food, Jack had attacked him, demanding to know when Crutchie had come down with his disease and how the food would be cold if he didn't get it out quickly enough. Race had fought down the anger and tears, telling himself in his head that this was still not their Jack, and that would be changed soon. He'd then gone to feed the rest, handing them the still-quite warm donuts and even given one to Jack.

"Ya gonna talk to him today, right?" Romeo was suddenly beside him, eyes glinting in the morning sun. As icy and cold as it was, the sun had decided to come out, and Romeo was looking livelier than he had in ages.

"Yeah, that's the plan." He nodded, sitting down on the bunk Crutchie was in. The crippled boy looked up at him with a sympathetic smile, and despite its painful look, he still lit up that corner with it.

Taking the donut, Crutchie shook his head weakly, brown eyes looking half closed, "I jus' don' get why ya still wanna do this."

"Cause he will help, Crutch." Race said quietly.

"Yeah, an' Pulitzer's gonna come outta hidin'."

The idea that Crutchie had nearly given up hope was too horrible for Race to understand. He didn't want to dwell on it, despite knowing that eventually they'd have to face the truth if Crutchie was the one giving up hope now. He'd been the only one who'd had any for such a long time…Race tried to shake his head and clear it, biting into the donut. Jack had hidden himself in a corner, none of the boys were near him. Everyone felt just as awkward as he was feeling remorse right now, Race could tell.

If leaving Jack where he belonged was the only way to help all of them, perhaps when they had looked for money, they should have gone to Pulitzer. It might've been better for everyone's mental health, including his own. Race hated to admit this, he wasn't terribly fond of Pulitzer, but putting that aside, he may have been able to convince the man to lend some money. It was too late now.

"We'se gonna talk." He had gone to Jack, who looked up with a bit of disinterest, but stood up with a groan.

"Look, Race, I…" Jack was scrambling for words.

"There's no 'look Race' here, youse standing in a deep pot'ta boiling water and you ain't getting out till we say ya can, Jack. Have ya looked at Crutchie?" He demanded, noticing the others were starting to pick up on the vibe. They needed to move. "Get out here an' talk."

Race took Jack by the arm, dragging him into the dusty hallway and thrusting him into the wall, then stood back a little bit. Jack looked more shocked that Race had done that than ashamed at what he had done. It really boiled Race's blood, but he refused to let it keep bugging him. Better to listen than to talk sometimes. That was something learned by all of them, and Jack had been the one to teach them it. Hopefully he could stick to his own rule, because Race wasn't fond of keeping quiet.

"Youse gotta say yes, or you gotta say no. We been waiting for weeks." He crossed his arms, glaring at Jack with a death glare. "Crutchie…just look at 'im."

"I get it…Race, you got to understand…my life it's…it's been thrown here and there and…" Jack was trying too hard now.

"Your life is complicated?! Ise gotta take care of the one kid who shoulda took care of us insteada you, cuz we ain't got enough money to get him back where he is supposed ta be. Givin' us hope. An' ya know what? Even if he is bedridden and nearly dead, he's still givin' us hope, more hope than youse ever did when shit happened." Race spat on the ground, grinding his teeth together. He could finally yell, he could finally get out what he'd wanted to since the whole thing had begun, and Kelly looked shocked. "An' youse ain't nothin', nothin' compared to Crutchie when it comes ta bravery. I seen you do things, Kelly, but I ain't seen ya do anything compared to what 'es been doing the past few weeks." A raging fire was burning inside of him, burning everything up and it felt wonderful.

"I…I know. I'm shit compared to him. I'm… any of you. Losing someone ain't wonderful, Race…and I let myself get carried away with it all…" Jack shook his head, blinking the tears out of his eyes, and looking around, as if terrified. Race felt suddenly softer toward the older boy, perhaps this wasn't how it was meant to go down with it all.

"Jack, let me tell ya something," it came out with a sigh, "Ise just think we nevah intended for things ta get this bad. None of us did. But if you don' act quick…youse gonna lose someone else ya love and if that's Crutchie…"

He didn't have to say it. They both knew it would send Jack off the edge, they would lose him completely. It would end Jack entirely. This had to be the only way to get to Jack's feelings, this was the way to get him on their side.

"Alright." Jack nodded, looking down, tears tracing his cheeks.

"Now you gotta explain this ta Crutch." He put an arm around Jack, gently starting to guide him back into the lodging house. Explaining would take a bit more with Crutchie, but he wanted to get everyone out of there so they could speak privately. It would be best.

Heads turned in their direction as they entered. Race didn't try and send them off, he needed their attention anyways if he was going to get them all to leave. Jack moved stiffly toward the bed where Crutchie lay. Race saw the black haired boy himself look up from his lying position very weakly, eyes growing soft when having seen Jack return. There were whispers throughout the room, but most were silent, as if scared of missing something. Race wished he could tell them all that this was the final solution, that Jack was absolutely helping, but he couldn't.

Bringing himself to that point was going to take a little bit of believing and a bit more cooperation between Jack and everyone. As soon as they arrived at the bed, he dropped his arm from Jack's shoulders and turned to look at the others. A weak smile managed to play across his face as he looked out at all of their curious ones.

"I believe we all gotta go into the other room for the time bein'. Jack has a bita … talkin' to do." He announced, hands in his pockets. "So's we gonna get an answer soon, boys."

There were more whispers as everyone stood up and some of the older ones started herding the large group into the other room. Race knew he had excited them with his talk of getting an answer, for it was known that 'an answer' was a term used only when good things were to happen. A silent prayer echoed across his mind that Jack would indeed say yes, but he hadn't given a clear answer just yet.

Once the others were out, he turned to look at Jack, and gave a reassuring smile and then at Crutchie, whom he also sent a smile, and a wink, but got nothing in return but a small tilt of the head. The other boy was clearly expecting something out of Jack and Race had no doubt that he would get that very thing. Then, slowly and solemnly, he moved out of the room, turning his back on what Racetrack Higgins would call his greatest bet he'd ever made.

 **A/N: Well that was chapter 11, I hope you enjoyed it! It's sort of a little story, now isn't it? But I suppose it works. Anyways, thanks for reading, and please, review, review, review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I have returned in one night, what a miracle! After just having finished up another story, I have two more to go (this and another one) not to make it sound like I'm trying to be done with things, but as I wish to pursue a larger writing project this summer, I'm aiming to finish things up around here. This probably isn't the last chapter for this story, but it's getting close.**

 **Anjion: Aw, thanks! And here's more, (hopefully it's good enough for you)!**

 **And onwards we tread!**

Crutchie had felt this much pain before, but only once, and that was the time he'd lost his leg. He didn't enjoy thinking about it, but pneumonia was almost as bad. It felt as though his lungs were full of ocean water. They could never empty out; they were full of such horrible things that he felt as if he might cough up everything he'd ever had to eat. A nasty thought, but it was the awful truth. Now that Jack was there, sitting next to him as he had done every other time there had been something wrong with him, he knew he should have felt a little less scared, but he didn't. In fact, talking with Jack terrified him more than he was letting on. He was scared of what might be said, but there was no way of avoiding it now, now that they were right here and things could still happen.

"Crutch…Crutch I'm…I'm sorry!" Jack choked out, and he bent his head down, looking away from Crutchie.

"I … I guess ya gotta be." He managed out weakly, looking apologetically at Jack, and reached out to touch the older boy's arm.

"Ise didn't mean ta, well, make ya sick an' …oh Crutchie, I'm so sorry." Jack still didn't look at him, and appeared to be lightly crying now.

"Youse didn't make me sick." Crutchie shook his head, and then felt a cough coming up. As soon as it came out, he curled himself up nearly into a ball, the force feeling like his lungs were tearing themselves apart.

Once the coughing fit had finished, he opened his eyes to see Jack looking at him in sheer panic. He gave him a weak shake of the head, refusing to appear too weak. He knew it was bad, his whole body was telling him that was what it was, that he was feeling bad, that this was all bad. Everything was horrible and he was not getting any better. It had been so long now; he was used to the wretched feeling in his body.

"Crutchie, look at youself and tell me that ain't cause of me!" Jack had moved from his touch early and now was looking at him, tears streaming down his face. Crutchie shook his head.

"It ain't, it's…this is jus' how we's gotta … it was the weather, Jack." It was more of a choke that he said this in himself, it was painful and he could hardly stand it, but he needed to manage it to let Jack know his feelings.

"I left ya and this happened." Jack shook his head; he was obviously insisting that this was not the case. Crutchie knew as well as anyone that it wasn't, but he wasn't sure he could continue.

"It…it isn't, Jack."

"I left 'cause I lost someone, an' now…look."

"You ain't losing me, Jack."

The words hung in the air between them, words of danger, words of horror, and words, oh, they were words Crutchie had thought every night. Every night as he lay in the bunk, he thought of it, and it didn't scare him nearly as much as it had in the beginning. The beginning of those words had started so many years before… "losing" and "me" were no longer terrifying. It had been driven out of his mind all of those years ago, and now, as it returned, he thought almost nothing of it. Even now, it was nothing. He had been taught that every moment was worth it.

Or, perhaps he had taught himself. The self-reflection was a shocker, but perhaps it was expected right now. It seemed that he had a lot of time to think while in bed, as it always had been, but more so now. The rest of the newsboys expected him to be uplifting even if he wasn't able to stand on his own feet, and he had to maintain that somehow. The deeper thoughts always calmed him, it was weird, and Crutchie knew it, but they did.

"That's what ya want me ta think, ain't it?" Jack sounded devastated.

"Nah, it's the truth."

"How ya gonna keep youself so shore if it?" The stream of tears going down Jack's face appeared to be almost eternally there now, and Crutchie blamed himself for all the pain Jack was feeling right now.

"Cause I know these things."

"Ya said that all those other times…"

"Look, we'se go-gotta talk about why ya left us, not 'bout why I could do that ta youse." It was blunt, but the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to talk about this with Jack right now. "Ya left an'…why, Jack?"

A cough erupted before Jack could reply, but as soon as Crutchie felt the last inch of air leave his lungs, and he filled back up again and let it out without a cough once more, Jack got to the point despite the dribble of whatever that was going down his chin. It was best if Jack kept talking and not paying attention to what was going on with him.

"I left 'cause I was sad, Crutch. An' it wasn't me. It nevah was, I don't know why I pretended I could just get away with telling you all that was the only problem, but I did my best to cover it up. I… Crutchie, I kicked you. I'll never forgive myself for that. It ain't proper to ever do that to anyone, especially you, and I regret it every time the thought crosses me mind," Jack gasped between small sobs, "An' now look where this got us ta. I nevah woulda talked about you leaving me before… I ain't liking how we is now, but it's cause we've all grown up, and maturing ain't pretty, maybe it's about accepting what is ta be…but after she got consumption an'…"

"Dis ain't no…no consumption, it's pneumonia, Jack. But I gotta admit…we'se better at talking about it an' youse is right as to why." He gave a sigh, head pressing back into the pillows. "Maybe it's cause I grown up with the fear. An' now it ain't a scary thing, but I ain't gonna just let it happen. Youse think I'm gonna jus' give up, well I ain't, an' if youse gonna aid us with money, then some doctor could help. They ain't gonna just tell us it's too late, they'se gonna give us an answer."

The upbeat attitude he attained-even with a few coughs and chokes while saying all of that, not to mention pauses-gained a small hint of a smile on Jack's ever increasingly wet face. Hope was no longer all that they had. Crutchie suddenly realized they had Jack on their side for now, for as long as they needed it all. Tears had started forming at his own eyes and suddenly he was trying to breath with sobs and what felt like torrential rain going down his face.

It was then that Jack came right up by him and pulled him into a hug somehow, and Crutchie buried his face in Jack's shoulder while Jack made Crutchie's shirt wet on the opposite shoulder. Everything he'd been holding in for the past few months, all the tears he had never dared to cry as a child, came out on Jack's shoulder right then and there that day; and Crutchie would never look at crying the same ever again.

 **A/N: Dun, dun, dun-just kidding who am I, evil? Why yes I am. But anyways, that was chapter 12. As you can see, we have quite a little ways to go, this should be fun! I have no idea what I'm going to do to anyone yet. Anyways, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and please, review, review, review!**


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